


Remember

by chassagne



Category: The Good Place (TV)
Genre: Angst, Crying During Sex, Eleanor is really clever, F/M, Fingering, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Oral Sex, The neighborhood plan didn't work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-30 13:51:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17829764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chassagne/pseuds/chassagne
Summary: Eleanor always finds out.





	Remember

When there are no pieces left – literally – of Eleanor for Michael to torture, her body is instantly reset at the snap of a finger.

Michael’s snap came to represent something much more perverse in these new circumstances Eleanor finds herself in. Both times it meant betrayal, of course, but in the first time it also meant subsequent redemption and love; this time, it only meant betrayal. Betrayal and constant, throbbing, _raw_ pain.

This time Eleanor knew there was no hope left for Michael.

The malicious, hurtful shit he said didn’t have any hidden meaning in it for her to unencrypt. The way he touched Eleanor was in no way tender or forgivable.

Or meaningful.

Eleanor could only wonder why and how they ended up like this.

Some time ago (she didn’t even bother trying to understand how Jeremy Bearimy worked) Michael would whisper sweet nothings in her ear while clinging to the fragile feather of a chance their Neighborhood experiment would work. Chidi no longer remembered who she was and she couldn’t make him remember, so she had to find emotional and physical relief in other people/beings. She wouldn’t tangle herself in the complex cobwebs of the Jason-Janet-Tahani relationship, and only one person/being understood the pain she was going through as he, unbeknownst to her, had to carry a burden that was just as heavy as hers. In some weird way, he always knew what to say when she came to him crying her eyes out in fear of the unknown or heartbreak or jealousy or everything at once. The understanding words were always there, as he also knew how it was to be under _so much_ pressure and how it felt to put everything/everyone he loved at stake. The conversations between them became longer and longer, until they became drunk ramblings and then thoughtless, _it’s-the-end-of-our-lives-so-what?_ fucks. A quick, efficient way of letting go of all the pain both of them have been going through.

She always goes through the same memory of one of these days again and again to try to understand what happened. After all, this was the only day he took the lead in talking instead of being the helping shoulder. She knew he told her something important. Maybe it was a farewell to his old ways. Maybe it was a warning. Maybe it was _something that made her understand_.

“Eleanor,” Michael whispers between fast-paced breaths while fucking the brains out of a bare-naked Eleanor in his office desk, her breasts covered by the cold hard material of the furniture. “I need… to tell you- _ah_ -something…”

“I’m sure that… whatever you need… to tell me- _ohgodfork_ -can wait.”

Michael sighs. Eleanor notices that it was not a sigh of pleasure (my God, she knows him too well) so she pats him in the thigh as a sign to stop.

“Turn around, please. There’s no need to get up.” His voice is as soft as when he told her he had solved the Trolley Problem, lifetimes ago.

(She doesn’t remember that.)

She turns around to look him in the face, her expression clearly showing her discontentment at having such a satisfying fuck being interrupted. Michael blissfully ignores it but doesn’t leave her unattended, his hands traveling carefully from her breast to her belly and finally, to her wet core.

“It can’t wait.”

“What is it, Michael?” Her tone is not one of anger, maybe one of a _little_ impatience, but mainly one of concern.

She just remembers his skillful fingers and tongue subsequently working wonders on her on an attempt to make the news easier to listen, but _what_ he told her is now just a muffled sound in her memory. The way memories work in the afterlife is almost like dreams work in the real life – and this one is kinda like a wet one – so the only thing the actual Eleanor feels when trying to recall that day is this distant burning, stimulation on her lady parts along with some faint brushes of what she was feeling psychologically. Her hips buck involuntarily into his lips, making him moan.

She knew she was sad. And angry, though not at Michael. And disappointed. And horny as hell.

But she still didn’t know what he said.

His tongue digs into her in rapid, fluid motions while she feels the presence of something wet other than her natural lubricants between her pussy and his mouth. “Michael… you’re… you’re _crying?!_ ”

“Just…” He stimulates her clit a little more, “promise me you’ll try to remember this.”

“ _Fork_ ,” A strangled sigh comes out of her in a mix of despair and pleasure. “I can’t promise anything… It’s… It’s out… of my control…”

“Of course. I’m— _ah_. I’m sorry.”

Keeping his firm grip on her hips, he finishes her in a slightly more vigorous and desperate way than the other times, applying more pressure and urgency to his movements, but one that makes her orgasm burst through her body in a just as intense manner.

She finds herself crying a little too.

It’s quite hard to think or focus when you’re under ever-present pain. As time went by this memory became less of a clue and more of a solace to her in times of hopelessness, like when Michael’s shell (Eleanor refused to believe there was ever feelings inside of this deceitful _demon_ as he keeps doing the unspeakable to her without her consent or intention to please) raped her for the tenth time in what-felt-like-a-day.

Michael’s shell is a terrible, vile being with no respect to anyone. That is a correct way to call him. A shell, because he’s hollow. Completely incapable of feeling. It’s a pity she ever believed he did. _He’s a demon, you fucking dumb bitch._

Michael’s shell.

_Shell._

**Wait.**

“Promise me you’ll try to remember this.”

Of _course._


End file.
